The Code
by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Tom was raised by the code, and he had to honor it. Assassin!AU


Note: Assassin!AU, mild mentions of child abuse

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 _Blend into the shadows, but hide in plain sight._

Tom had heard the story of his arrival to the League before. He was young, sickly, and most importantly alone.

Whatever happened to his parents was a mystery to the women who were scouting the area. Apparently the target that was meant to be disposed of had gotten away. Though they did not leave empty handed. The women had found him inside one of the dumpsters attempting to find scraps.

Tom didn't want to believe it, but the bits and pieces of memory that he did hold onto told him otherwise. It was the only reason that he knew to tell them that his name Tom. He did not have memory of his last name, but it didn't matter. Where he was now, a last name would be moot.

He was trained in the League, a community of assassins and contract killers who served its people.

It was amusing to him at times that civilians never picked up on the differences between themselves and the League that walked right through their midsts. Though that was part of the code; keeping a public face had to be as easy as hiding in the shadows.

 _Fear must die as it only exists in the weak._

League took Tom in; they gave him a home. He was also given a title, Riddle, for the high level of intelligence he offered at his young age. Despite his skill and age, the League did not hold back on him in training.

He had all the scars to prove it. From the arrow piercings on his shoulders to the slashes of small blades, they each told a story of how Tom became the dangerous man that the world only knew by the name Riddle.

They played at his fear of being alone, the worry of not failure. It was used against him to make him see that those things were only for the weak. Tom was _anything_ but weak.

 _Instinct must be trusted more than man._

Tom's first mission was of reconnaissance, gathering intel on a target that was needing to be wiped out.

The target had a daughter. Three daughters in fact. One struck a nerve inside Tom when he laid eyes on her. Her hair was thick and curly, dark as fresh coal. Her eyes were no different, shining in the moonlight. Her stature oozed confidence, and the smile on her face showed that she was cunning.

He couldn't help but be mesmerized by her walk, the swaying of her hip with each step she took alongside her sisters. Tom could have sworn that he heard the name 'Bella,' and he found it fitting. The draw to the girl caused him to lose focus on his target, but in a snap the girl was gone and Tom barely had enough time to retrieve a snapshot of key the target used for the doors.

Tom nearly failed on his first real mission because of his sudden attraction to the woman. He couldn't make that mistake again, or it'd have been his head on a platter by the League's many swords.

 _To kill efficiently, one must make peace with death._

When the elder members of the League found out about the events of his first mission (which was told by the attending assassin who was with him that he neglected to remember), Tom was given a second mission that changed his life yet again.

The target with the three daughters would die by his hand. Pushing emotions away from training was one thing, but putting it to use without messing up the contract was another. Tom no longer feared being alone, but the thought of failing was not far from his mind.

He had to push it back in. Tom couldn't afford to mess up now. He would have a punishment worse than death if he didn't succeed; the years of growing up and watching the executions reminded him of that.

The target was in the garden with the curly-haired beauty by his side. Tom was a distance away, bow drawn and ready for the kill. He took a steady breath and kept his eyes on target. He had to push away any male impulses and do what needed to be done.

Every statement in the League's code came to Tom's mind. He had to remind himself about keeping to the shadows, but blending in with the crowds. He had to remind himself about having no fears. He had to remind himself to trust his instincts. He had to remind himself to make peace with death to kill.

He didn't know her personally, but he knew that this would not only cement his fate in the League but cement her future without her father. He couldn't allow himself to care, or all of his childhood teachings were for naught.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Tom said before taking the shot with his bow and arrow.

The sounds of piercing screams echoed in the backyard and the areas surrounding it.

* * *

 **A/N: Written for HSWW (Challenges and Assignments)**

Assignment #9 Mythology **Task 2:** Lernaean Hydra - Write about someone/thing that was raised to be a killer.

Word Count: 840


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